


Hollow Soul

by snarkymonkey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attachment Issues, Dybbuk - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash, Soul Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymonkey/pseuds/snarkymonkey
Summary: Dean and Sam are on a long drive to get to Bobby's to help the older hunter and Rufus deal with a dybbuk.  While waiting for food at a diner, Dean gets a surprise visit from Castiel and more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Hollow Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magic_ramen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magic_ramen/gifts).



Dean shifted in his seat, wincing. Much as he loved his baby, his ass was starting to think differently. They’d been on the road for the better part of the day and Dean _knew_ he could switch off with Sam but then again, this was his baby so fat chance. Which meant a numb ass and a burning crick in his back.

As though hearing the thought, Sam glanced at him a few times before clearing his throat. “You hungry?”

He nearly smiled at that. Sam might not demand he switch over but he would do his best to remind Dean not to drive himself – literally – to exhaustion. He shrugged, even as his stomach gnawed at his spine. “Yeah, I could eat.” 

Sam scrolled his phone and pointed. “Looks like a place about ten miles ahead. Don’t worry; I’ll get it to go.”

Dean only nodded, squinting through the night. Christ, he was getting old. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, but at least his ass was too dead to complain just yet. Any other day, they’d be parked at a motel and Dean would be either drunk or drooling into a pillow. Preferably both. Instead, it was two in the morning and he was still driving. 

He had Bobby to thank for that. The call had come in just after they’d finished offing a poltergeist that had infested a rare book room. Dean had nearly ignored the call given how tired he was but a sixth sense had prompted him to answer. Thank fuck he had. It was rare that Bobby sent an SOS when on a hunt with Rufus. Which meant they’d barely waved goodbye to the bookseller before they were on the road again. 

While Bobby hadn’t sounded frantic, Dean wasn’t about to risk it. He’d rather get there and find nothing than arrive rested and have to set up a funeral pyre.

The garish neon of the diner bloomed to life finally and Dean grinned. “Shit, looks like something off Route 66.” The bright red and orange duck was new though. He had to wonder if he should start collecting pictures of all the oddball signs they saw. He snickered as he pulled into the nearly empty lot. It was likely _not_ the best diet on the planet but there was something to be said about truck stop diners; beyond always being open. He knew that Sam tried his best to stay healthy but as far as Dean was concerned, with as often as he risked his life, he could suffer a blocked artery or two.

He parked the Impala and shut her off, patting the steering wheel as the engine popped and pinged. “Sorry, girl; you’ll get a proper rest soon.”

Sam snorted. “You should look at a mirror when you say that.” He grinned at Dean’s scowl. “Want anything special?”

“Coffee,” Dean yawned. He shooed Sam out the door and leaned back, trying to work the stiffness out his legs. Wincing, he shifted in his seat, raising his legs to stretch them across the bench seat. Even that movement did wonders, sending blood pumping back to parts forgotten.

“Christ,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He needed sleep. For like a week. He and Sam had just had two nasty hunts back-to-back and then Bobby’s urgent call. He _had_ been looking forward to a leisurely return to South Dakota. Instead, he had a fire under his ass from worry. Eyes shut, he shifted through the message from earlier that day, firmly lodged in his memory.

“ _Dybbuk, Dean. Real nasty. Rufus’ rabbi’s gettin’ desperate. Thing keeps giving us the slip so I need some extra bodies.”_

_“Aren’t they all nasty? Wanting shit they can’t have?”_

_“Knock it off, smartass. Just get here, pronto.”_

He opened his eyes slowly, staring at nothing. He wondered how the hell anyone could want something so completely, that they couldn’t move on. Couldn’t let go. Would instead turn into something so horrendously violent, whatever life they’d lost would be forever tarnished. Broken and forgotten. By turning into a dybbuk, whatever they had craved was now truly out of reach. A soul damned and fit for little more than a flash of salt and a match.

A hiss of wind and he jumped, striking his head against the window. “Fuck! Cas, goddammit!” He rubbed at his head, squinting at the angel. “Shit, warn a guy.”

The angel frowned, staring quietly at Dean. When he said nothing, Dean dropped his hand, confused.

“Hey. What . . . you need something?”

Castiel opened his mouth and shut it, frown deepening. Finally, he murmured, “No. You seem to, however.”

Dean leaned against the car door. “That right?” Never let it be said he understood _one thing_ the angel said to him. He’d known the bugger for over a decade and hadn’t managed to parse half of what came out of Castiel’s mouth. He cleared his throat, hiding the smile. Could be worse things, he supposed. At least he could count on Castiel’s cryptic nature.

The angel nodded once. “You’re after a dybbuk.”

He shivered, affectionate humor a sour lump. “I warned you about digging in my head.”

“I didn’t. Bobby called me, as well.” He sat back, staring ahead. “It’s a soul that I need to see returned. You will _need_ to subdue it; I have to make certain it can’t continue as it has.” He shifted his shoulders, rolling his neck. “Left alone, they become demons.” He eyed Dean then. 

“Why not go smite it now?” Dean chided. He smirked at Castiel’s squint. He figured it a win every time he dragged one of those out. “I mean, if it’s so damn imperative.”

Castiel’s lips thinned. “I won’t _smite_ it,” he cautioned. “I need _you_ to subdue it so that I can take it back where it belongs. I shouldn’t just demolish it because it’s in pain.” He leaned back in the seat, leather shifting under him. 

Surprising. “That matters?” He watched Castiel, the angel’s gaze locked on Sam as he moved through the diner. Dean followed the look and was immediately struck by how tried Sam looked, hunched over the counter. He wasn’t the only one worn out. Yet another reason he wouldn’t let Sam drive. At least _one_ of them needed to be functioning. Dean could handle being the fuck up for a little longer.

“Dybbuk. An attachment spirit,” Castiel murmured, seemingly to himself.

Dean watched him from the corner of his eye, not replying. Most of the spirits they dealt with had attachment issues. Whatever name they went by, they couldn’t leave. _Wouldn’t_ leave. He let his eyes face forward again. “Yeah, can’t imagine there’s anything in this world worth ripping shit apart for.”

“Really?”

He turned then, surprised. Castiel appeared truly flummoxed by the comment. He laughed softly. “Well, yeah. I mean, once I’m dead and gone, fuck it. The only reason you’re here is because I was still _kind of_ alive in Hell. I was useful then. Wasn’t me trying to come back.” He cleared his throat under that steady gaze. “Fuck, man,” he sighed, “even Sam was fine without me here. Why the _fuck_ would I come back and mess that up?”

“I don’t know that anyone _intends_ to be a spirit like this,” Castiel began, that familiar burr low and comforting. “To return in such a way, one would have to feel . . . they’ve lost something. That some part of them was left behind. That they themselves are no longer whole.” He took a breath, frowning at Dean. “I believe I understand how that can happen. Why a soul would cling desperately to memories.”

With his heart wedged in his throat, Dean met those bright eyes and swallowed. “You do, huh?” he husked. “You’ve seen civilizations rise and fall in seconds,” he pointed out, barely holding back the sneer. “Hell, you’ve told me that shit yourself in the beginning, trying to get me to kowtow to the douches upstairs. How the hell can you get attached to _anything_?” He shook his head, scratching his throat as he did. “The fuck would an angel crave to turn them into that.”

When silence met the comment, he focused on Castiel, startled. The blue eyes were a shade darker now, unreadable and deep. No, not unreadable. But what Dean found there frightened him even as he couldn’t look away.

“I’ve learned,” he began, voice soft, “what it is to crave. I’ve felt that need. I’ve seen what it can do. How damaging it can be.” He raised a hand through the space between them, nearly touching Dean’s cheek as he did. “I’ve also seen how beautiful it can be. How strong and clear. How it can be the purest impulse. The most honored.” His hand fell away, landing on the seat, a hair’s-breadth from Dean’s. “So, yes; I do understand how that can happen. And knowing that, I will not allow it to be obliterated. I would see it instead granted a proper rest.”

Pulse rapid and echoing in his ears, Dean rasped, “Why don’t you want it destroyed?” The urge to lean into Castiel’s hand had been so savage, Dean had nearly caved. But instead, like so many times before, he resisted, even as he thought he saw an echo of want in familiar blue.

A faint, sad smile tugged at the angel’s lips, his fingertips resting light on the back of Dean’s hand. “Because no one deserves to be punished for being lost.”

Nerves taut, Dean licked his lips. “Cas,” he husked, “what would you lose yourself for?”

He blinked, staring at the nothing. A gasp punched from his chest and he swallowed hard. He jumped when the door creaked open and nearly dropped the coffee Sam thrust into his hand. 

Sam looked at him and then frowned as he set their meals on the seat. “You okay?”

Dean nodded, phantom fingers and haunting blue surging through his mind. “Uh, yeah. Just . . . you, uh, mind driving for a bit?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Uh, sure. Sure, you bet.”

Silent now, Dean switched seats with Sam, pausing at the passenger door. He stared behind him, the inky night a blanket of silence under the buzzing pop of tired neon. He dropped his gaze and slid back into the Impala, cradling his coffee.

“You feeling okay?” Sam prodded again, as he backed the car out.

“Tired, bitch. Let me drink my coffee.” He fished in the bag pulling out a burger. He barely tasted it as he chewed, his mind instead drawn to the squeeze on his fingers at his final question.

**Author's Note:**

> My darling [magic_ramen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magic_ramen) gave me the lovely prompt of Dean being surprised by Cas and them discussing dybbuks so here we go! Hope it's enjoyed!
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://snarkymonkeyprime.tumblr.com)


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